Whose Line is it, Anyway?
by Vanessa Tolins
Summary: Set shortly after 'Mystery Spot,' they've run into the Trickster once more who's decided enough is enough and he's not playing games any longer.  He has business to do and the two boys keep interfering, it's time to teach them a lesson.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Notes:**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural, it is the property of the CW and no, I can't get you in contact with anyone.

**Warning:** Eventual Wincest, eventual lemons. I promise. I'm incapable of not including at least one good sex scene lol.

I'm a little rusty when it comes to writing fic so, we'll see how this goes. Gonna be a bodyswap fic. Originally meant to be a PWP but…doesn't look like it will be… I'll put up a warning in the M-rated chapters.

**Set shortly after 'Mystery Spot,' they've run into the Trickster once more who's decided enough is enough and he's not playing games any longer. He has business to do and the two boys keep interfering, it's time to teach them a lesson.**

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><p>"Dude, let's go," Sam said seriously, not wanting to take no for an answer and also not wanting to explain to Dean <em>why<em> they had to leave. But the elder Winchester seemed to want to put up a fight because he was like a damned dog: once he got the scent of a job (or bone), he never let it go. "Look, this is just the Trickster," the younger hunter admitted, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't forgotten the promise he'd made that they wouldn't hunt down the dessert-loving fiend, and he really wanted to get on to the next job and the next Hicktown, U. S. A., before their quarry noticed them and thought Sam was a deal breaker.

"Look, I know you made some sort of, what? A deal with him? But dude…just because he's getting people that deserve it doesn't mean we can turn a blind eye, does it?" Dean's argument was valid, but Sam knew he'd play that card and had his own prepared in return. It felt dirty, almost, because he knew they'd been through so much and there really wasn't much comparison but…it was worth a shot.

"We do the same thing, Dean. We hunt down creatures much worse than him and kill them." There, he'd said it, and sadly…he believed it, too. "So what if he picks off some serial killers or rapists along the way? He's a freak, we're freaks, but we kind of clean up each other's populace, for lack of a better term." Dean just glared at him and if looks could kill, Sam was sure he'd just be a pile of smoldering ash on the concrete. Hazel eyes met green squarely in a staring contest to rival any in the Guinness Book of World Records as Sam patiently waited out his older brother, knowing that he could get his way if he were stubborn enough.

"Fine," was the hissed reply as Dean visibly shook off the feeling of neglecting his duty to protect the citizens of the United States, and, of course, keep them from knowing things that they thought went bump in the night really _did_ go bump in the night. Relaxing just a little, Sam let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, not really having been sure it would work. "But only because you promised him! Next time, if I come alone, he's dead meat!"

"Oh, boys, is that any way to treat an old friend?" The voice was annoying, gratingly familiar and it came from behind him, but Dean's jade hues had narrowed in his own expression of 'pissed off.' "I mean, really, you don't even stop to say hello? Where are your manners?" The Trickster tutted and tsked in a mock-chastising manner and Sam almost smiled. Turning around slowly he finally laid eyes on the one person that perhaps had helped him the most so far whether Sam would admit it or not. Maybe he couldn't live without Dean, but Loki _had_ shown him a few things whether he wanted to admit it or not. Things about himself and Dean that Sam had kept buried for so long, like feelings for his elder sibling younger brother's really shouldn't have. They'd always been there, he'd just pretended for so long that they didn't exist he'd even fooled himself.

But watching Dean die over and over again had rekindled it, made him wanna be near his brother twenty-four seven if only to have him in his life. For as long as he could remember, it had been the two of them thick and thin through it all, attached at the hip when he'd been too young to realize this couldn't last forever, and also so young that he hero-worshipped the only constant person in his life: Dean. Sure, John was their father, but absent just as much as he was there for them. If Sam had a birthday, the chances of John being there for it were slim to none. About to respond, he was cut off by Dean's rash words. "Yeah, well, you didn't exactly lay out the right welcome mat. Back to old habits, I see."

"You know what they say," and the Trickster's dark eyes narrowed as he added, "Old habits die hard. I really don't have time for this, and neither do you. There are jobs that _do_ require your attention, though, and they aren't here. But stay; see if I care, I'm almost finished with this town, anyway." Dean opened his mouth to reply with what was sure to be another smart-ass comment when the short, brown-eyed male snapped his fingers and everything went dark.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hey, so...review? Pretty please? Admittedly, this was kind of short (for me) so...let me know if I should continue...


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Notes: Yay, I'm glad people seem to be enjoying it. xD  
>Once again, I own nothing.<br>**

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><p>When Dean came to, it was a slow and groggy process. He was on his stomach laying down on one of the mediocre beds in their current seedy motel and his feet were hanging off the end rather uncomfortably. With a short grunt he squirmed upward to get his feet on the bed and under the covers, but let out a loud yelp when he hit his head on the wall. "Son of a bitch!" he said, except his voice sounded weird - different. He sounded kind of like Sam...<p>

The painting above the bed wobbled threateningly against the wall for a few moments before settling almost angrily back into place as the elder Winchester brought a hand up to his short locks to press gingerly against what was surely becoming a bump. Except his hair wasn't short, it was long and softer than usual and adrenaline made him temporarily forget his pain as caution and wariness set in. A drop of liquid, probably from the leak he'd spotted in the ceiling the night before, dropped onto the back of his neck and he flopped onto his back, staring up and eyes widening in panic at what he saw: Sam was on the ceiling, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"No!" he shouted and sat up, and then realized Sam was now sitting as well. "Not like this," he muttered. Azazel was dead and gone, this shouldn't be happening! Besides, didn't the damned demon have some kind of ultimate plan for Sam? Or maybe it was another demon trying to send a message by killing Sam this way... The pounding in his heart threatened to overwhelm him as he waited for the fire to start, but it didn't and a slithering sound of sheets moving together nearly made him fall off the bed entirely.

"Dean, shut up," came a grumble from the other bed beside him, except it was deeper than it should have been and it was another voice he'd recognize anywhere: his own. "M'tryin' to sleep."

"Sam?" he asked, wincing at the strange not-Dean sounds he emitted. He could have sworn Sam was talking, saying his own name, but his own lips were moving. "Sammy?" he turned around, seeing a form on the other bed like a lump under the blankets. He couldn't see an inch of his little brother, except that the lump wasn't as bulky as usual. Looking back up he realized that Sam was fine on the ceiling, but the only problem was there was a mirror above the bed and what he was seeing wasn't actually Sam - it was Sam's reflection. Moving a hand up to his face experimentally he pulled, poked and prodded at his cheek, nearly exclaiming aloud yet again when Sam's reflection did the same. "What the Hell?" he asked quietly to no-one in particular. "You have got to be kidding me."

"What are you going on about?" Sam asked from beneath his blanket cacoon, but he sounded more awake (thank God) and threw off the blankets, staring at Dean with an astonished look on his face. "Dean...?"

"I know!" the elder hunter interrupted, standing up as well and almost falling from the height difference. "I mean, I don't know, not about how or why but, damn, this complicates things." Looking up at the mirrored ceiling again he cringed at his reflection, at his brother's face in the mirror, and asked, "What do you remember?"

"Nothing. I mean, I remember getting into town and checking in here, then hitting the books," and Sam was in 'figure things out' mode and watching his own face screwed up in concentration was weird. Weirder still was the one hand perched on a hip and Dean had to bite his tongue to tell Sam he looked gay because, well, that'd be like saying Dean himself looked gay. Besides, they didn't need to get into any arguments this soon into the mess. The sooner things got back to normal, the sooner Dean could go about his business.

Taking another appraising look at Sam he did say, "You know, you are one good-looking Winchester right now." Sam gave him what he must have considered a warning look, which looked a bit more ridiculous because they weren't used to looking like each other yet, and Dean couldn't help but crack a grin, breaking the promise not to fight he'd just made to himself. "And by the way, remind me never to pose like that when I get my body back, it looks ridiculous."

"Yeah, okay, Dean, and remind me never to smile like that, you make me look like I'm high or something," Sam retorted, eyes narrowing further and stepping closer to the older male and looking up (up!) at him. What a weird feeling. "How can you stand being so short?" Sam smirked and it was Dean's turn to step closer and glare.

"How can you stand being such a height freak? The weather even feels different up here." They stood like that for a few moments before Dean relented with a sigh. "This is getting us nowhere, fast."

"You started it," was the petulant reply which Dean tolerated because, hey, it was true. "Alright, so we rolled into town and I remember hitting the books. Looks like it could be a Tulpa," he said and grabbed the laptop which Dean looked at from over the other's shoulder. Huh, well it was definitely easier from this height, maybe being so tall had advantages (not that he'd ever tell Sam, of course). Last night's research was on the screen about a local legend, but the attacks were all different, just varied enough to keep them as weirdly separate. "At the High School…we should check it out, see if we can't find the symbol and destroy it."


End file.
